


The Pieces Fallen

by ConvictorKaruma



Series: Bastarddome Drabbles (RP drabbles) [1]
Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Alcoholism, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Injections, Suicide, amnestics-assisted brainwashing, bastarddome, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15127493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvictorKaruma/pseuds/ConvictorKaruma
Summary: O5-10, call sign "Janus" knew they fucked up, big time. Somehow, by some stroke of miracle, and a little misleading on their part, they are able to get a stay of executions, with conditions. The conditions don't sound so bad. They did not understand what they agreed to. They did not know the shattered lives they were going to leave in their wake.THIS FIC IS WRITTEN AS AN ALTERNATE SCENARIO TO THE CANON IN THE BASTARDDOME ROLEPLAY SERVER





	1. Steal Away

**Author's Note:**

> As this fic is done for an alternate path the Bastarddome RP could have taken, and is full of OCs, and specific-to-the-server interpretations of canon characters, I feel it prudent to give you all a rundown of who is who, all characters are handled as closely to how their writers write them as I can manage (I am only human, after all, or at least I say I am). All interpretations and OCs are specific to the server. Their writer is credited in parentheses  
> Ten -- O5-10 "Janus", formerly named Emery Jonaitis, OC (Pippin)  
> Katja Sparks -- Ten's ex fiancee, time-based reality bender, OC (South)  
> Xavier -- formerly O5-12 "The Accountant", the calculative one, interpretation of a canon character (Earthy)  
> Gino Sparks -- Katja's deceased twin, taken out by the Foundation for Reality Bender Crimes, OC (Ash)  
> One -- O5-1 "The Founder", strict, ruthless perfectionist, interpretation of a canon character (Swarm)  
> Liar -- O5-11 "The Father of Lies", constantly lying and pretending to be others, head of coverups and disinformation, shares role with others, interpretation of a canon character (Pippin)  
> Secrecy -- O5-11 "The Mother of Secrets", obsessed with collecting secrets, head of amnestics and censorship, shares role with others, OC (South)  
> Four -- O5-4 "The Ambassador", broken up by events, interpretation of a canon character (Swarm)  
> Nine -- O5-9 "Kappa", twitch memer, handles the technology department, OC (Harley)  
> Three -- O5-3 "The Philosopher Scientist”, the ethics guy, interpretation of a canon character (Swarm)  
> Two -- O5-2 “The Designer”, handles clothing for the foundation, OC (Molly)  
> Eight -- O5-8 “The Artificer”, handles designing containment, newcomer, OC (Alexx)  
> Twelve -- O5-12 “Sarcasm”, replacement for Xavier, same role, trained from childhood, OC (Earthy)  
> Thirteen -- O5-13 “Tamlin”, there and a meme, interpretation of a canon character (Soup)  
> Thirteen -- O5-13 “AI Complex”, indicated by blockquote, only used for chat commands, typically, interpretation of a canon character (written by whoever needs it)  
> South -- Red Right Hand agent, the best marksman on the force, OC (South)  
> Calypso -- Red Right Hand agent, formerly a weapon to kill the Council repurposed, OC (Ivan)  
> Glass -- On-site psychologist, handles many cases with support from other psychologists, interpretation of a canon character (Harley)  
> Ace -- Throwaway OC made for the fic, nothing of note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten has to slip away in secrecy, or their friends will stop them. They're doing the right thing. They're going home.

It was the middle of the night when they slipped away. They didn't tell anyone they were given this chance, everyone here would try to talk them out of it, and they didn't know if they had the willpower to argue with them. So, instead, they ran. This was becoming a theme, wasn't it?  
  
By all appearances, they were getting off easy, just a refresher course, revocation of some power within the server, observation, and more oversight over their decisions. All of this seemed fair enough. They had suggested most of it themself. They survived it, and they didn't have to give up their life.  
  
It had taken a while to surmise where they were in the world, no one told them. Their loyalties still in question as they were, it would have been catastrophic. But they had a phone. It was one unconnected to the network, Xavier had insisted on destroying those after Ten sent their explanation. They hadn't shown him the part where they submitted to judgment and sentencing. Any phone can be traced, though, and even if they had grown up without technology, the Foundation had had some similar long before the world did, they had practice. They could get into the right channels to let them find where they were.  
  
They waited until they were far enough away from the safehouse. They wanted to go home. They wanted Katja and Twelve safe. They would say Katja abandoned them when they explained to her that Gino’s death was a regrettable calculation, but was not deemed unnecessary. Anyone who knew anything about her would know she would throw someone who spoke like that to the wolves. She hadn't said where she was going. They didn't know, and couldn't follow. They already set up Twelve’s death for him, with his input. They just had to remove themself from the plan. They were pulling it off. They really could begin and end a lot of things, when they had to. They could balance split motives. Their call sign sat as a testament to that.  
  
The thought that this was a ruse to lure them out crossed their mind, but if it was? If they were so far gone as to allow themself to be mislead and manipulated this many times within a month? They wouldn't be useful to either side, anyway. No matter what Katja said.  
  
Katja didn't understand, she refused to try, she refused who Ten was. Twelve didn't understand, not anymore, he wanted Ten to see what he saw, they wondered briefly who was being stubborn here. Both of them, probably. Gino tried to, but they knew despite his best efforts, Ten was Ten, and Gino didn't know Ten.  
  
And so, they waited. They waited for the Red Right Hand to show up. _‘Wait for it, and let your chips fall where they may,’_ their brain was full of static, too many conflicting thoughts all at once.

  


They didn't bat an eye when the agents showed up armed. They were last known to be with a reality bender who had used lethal force in the past, even if Ten believed, no, _knew _Katja hadn't meant to. They couldn't take chances. The fact that they had time to register the weapons meant they weren't being disposed. They knew what an execution went like. On the ground, full of lead, before it could register what was happening at all. They were going to live.__  
  
Of course their gambit worked, they knew how to play this game, and they had had the time to think, really think, about the best way to word it, to show that the Foundation had been a priority, had always been _the_ priority. That the appearance of putting Sparks’ feelings before it was just that, an appearance. A ruse to keep a dangerous green placated. How true that was, they weren't sure, but truth was subjective. Truth didn't matter. Results did.  


\-------

  
Xavier was the first to rise, he was immediately acutely aware that something was off. He always had a sense for these things, especially when it came to--Immediately upon that thought, he hoisted himself into his chair to begin looking for his idiot former co-worker, and, he secretly hoped, eventual friend.  
  
Ten was nowhere to be found. _'God_ damn _it, Ten.’_ It wasn't hard to guess where Ten had gone, or why. They had recently submitted an explanation, they had shown extreme reluctance to relinquish their grasp on their old life, they were awful at letting go, even if it burned them. _'You are an idiot. You want death so badly? They're going to chew you up and spit you out.’_ He didn't voice those thoughts. He didn't know what they were told, but he knew, first hand, death of the body wasn't the only kind of death their peers were able and willing to inflict. How was he going to break this to Katja?  


\-------

  
The agent at the front, they noted that it wasn't South, though they saw him in the group, started asking them where their last known cohorts had been. They pointed in a direction, not the direction of the safehouse, and said they had been dropped off before the group took Katja’s jet and headed that way. They didn't know where the destination was. Katja still didn't trust them. This was satisfactory for him. They would do a sweep later. Getting the Overseer back was the priority.


	2. Your Terms of Employment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new set of rules. They are happy to agree.

They walked into the site, head up, shoulders back, no apologies, only answer their questions, and accept retribution. Even repeating that, though, there was a niggling in the back of their skull, they did not want to face One. All the confidence in the world couldn't prepare anybody to deal with him, especially in the wake of such an exercable misjudgment as the one they had made. Maybe their explanation would temper it, prove they were back to firing on all cylinders. Maybe he wouldn't go all in. They knew that was a futile hope.

“Disgraceful,” there was no greeting. This was how he always greeted everyone, in the rare event he was called upon. Ten wished that Three were here to temper him, and then they let that thought go. He had requested a private discussion with them. They didn't know that was because everyone else either had things to set up for their new rules, or wouldn't be very helpful in this particular discussion. They didn't know a lot of things. Misplaced faith.  
  
“Hello, One. This is about the terms of my employment, correct?” They knew immediately that was the wrong move.  
  
He scowled at them, “Do not speak until you are told to.” Ten gave a small, but confident nod. This was not going to go well, was it, “You are only spared because your loyalty proves you can be salvaged, and starting over unnecessarily is a waste of resources.” Another nod of understanding. “The first order of business is your retraining. As soon as we are done here, you will be lead to the room.” And that was the end of the formalities. “Before that, however,” here it came, “O5-10, your actions are a hideous blemish on the Foundation. You failed to think clearly and coherently, and endangered the Council. You were far too trusting, a mistake absolutely inadmissible by someone of your standing. If you slip up again, there will be no trial. There will be no time to process what you did. You will be disposed of. Those who remember you will do it with only scorn. You have nearly ruined the Foundation with your impulsive behavior and unacceptable conduct. You will not let it happen again. You are to perform your duties to meet a new set of standards. You are to follow a schedule, and deviate from it solely under direct request of the O5 Command. If you need to deviate for other reasons, you are to get it approved by two other Council members. Your contact with those outside the Foundation is to be screened and strictly monitored, you are to submit any requests to contact anyone outside the Foundation for review. Your support staff is to handle your inbox except for messages from Command, messages from Doctor Glass, and messages from Site Directors. They will forward anything deemed important to you. You will be monitoring the chats, but you will only be allowed to speak, outside of sending pre-written warnings and similar, for two hours a day, the time allotted may be changed if, and only if, you prove you can conduct yourself respectably. It may also be shortened or revoked entirely. You are not to make any administrative decisions without seeking approval. You are not to make any nominations for positions. You are to speak to Doctor Glass in person once per month, and text him weekly, beginning after your retraining is verified. You will be under constant supervision, and are not to take any communication devices with you when you are out of view. You are to submit a monthly activity log directly to me for review. This log will be checked against other information. Any disinformation or omissions will result in your immediate termination. You are not to engage any persons of interest spotted on the server, only log them. You are to have at least four people of our choosing to trail you when you are allowed to leave Foundation property. You are to transfer sites more frequently. These are non-negotiable terms. Do you understand that?”  
  
“Yes, sir. I submit to these terms.” Their voice was unwavering, they were able to look him in the eye and say it. Even if they didn't like it. Even if they felt it ruined their hope to make things better. They were home.  
  
“You said in your defense that we should migrate the Command chat. What, precisely, are Katja Sparks’ abilities?”  
  
They realized those had never been recorded. At the time she was logged, it was just that she was a reality bender, and suspected on 33 counts of murder. “Temporal based,” they ignored how this felt like a betrayal. They couldn't split their interests like this anymore, “Anything she has access to, she can manipulate into a former state. Including electronic files. This means she can bend her files back in, and gain access to Command. It will need different access parameters, so that, even if she bends her file back in to the time she had access, she cannot access the new server.” This was admitting to another mistake.  
  
“You added her knowing this? You are an utter failure as an Overseer. You are very, very lucky the vote has already been cast. That bit of information would have been your downfall.”  
  
“I admit, I was not thinking clearly at the time. She said she would not abuse it. I should not have believed her.”  
  
“You understand the severity of the situation. The groveling needs to stop. Accept the consequences. You are dismissed.”


	3. Prepare Another Dose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xavier understands what Ten agreed to. Ten is just about to.

Katja’s face fell. “They're going _back_? Despite everything? Despite what you told them? Despite knowing they were ready to come for them?” She wanted to cry, Emery had always been unwaveringly loyal, she needed to save them, she couldn't lose the only living remnant. The only one of Gino’s friends she had spared. “Emery...what have they done to you?”  
  
“Whatever they have done is nothing compared to what they _will_ do, Katja,” Xavier did not want to elaborate, “We're not getting them back. They're being reckless. The consequences will not be reversible.” He touched the amnestics in his pocket. He would administer them after this. He never wanted to remember Ten, or the Foundation, again. He would remember them as a fallen friend. It would be better that way.  
  
If Gino were still around, he would have held Katja as she broke down. Ten threw themself into the mulcher that was the Foundation, and she couldn't understand why, this time. They broke Emery. They had broken Emery so badly that they were afraid of their own name. Emery could have been saved. She could have gotten Emery back. Katja was the only person who still believed this.

  


\-------

  


An escort stepped in to lead Ten to the retraining room. As they walked down the halls and stairways, Ten began to notice this wasn't familiar at all. This wasn't where the formal training took place. This was beginning to seem less hopeful. But this was what they wanted, right?  
  
They followed behind him, anyway. This was home, home was safe, they didn't trust their coworkers, but this would be fine. They would be dead if they were going to die. Whatever this was, it wouldn't be that bad.  
  
Looking around, they knew two things, that they definitely had never been here before, and that, if decor were any indication, this floor was the Elevens’ floor. _'Why would we need the Elevens for training?’_ To them, that seemed like a terrible idea, since the two of them lied so often, no one knew what was and wasn't true, even them. And they kept so many secrets that no one could even begin to count them.  
  
The realization only hit them when they opened the door to Secret’s office.

  


There were vials and vials of amnestics, various kinds. More than Ten had ever seen in one place before, amnestics wasn't their department. Were those for them?  
  
Secrecy turned around, face eerily calm, with a slight smile. This was her domain, her job, and knocking Ten back into line was something most of the Council had wanted to do for some time. She held up the syringe. She was going to enjoy this. She wasn’t supposed to _steal_ memories, not of Council members, only amnesticize, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d amnesticize most of them, but anything _really_ juicy? Those were for her. She loved her job.  
  
In the next room, Liar was typing up Ten’s responses so they read like Ten. There were a lot of them. She also wrote up a long list of requirements for how to speak with underlings in person. This was easy. Faces were never that hard.

  


“Who are you?”  
  
“O5-10, callsign Janus.”  
  
“Who were you?”  
  
“I was a researcher in chemistry.”  
  
“Who is your best friend?”  
  
They paused, reeling. “No one,” they said. The pause was too long. It wasn't enough. Another dose.

  


“Who is Katja Sparks?”  
  
“Former employee. Has a connection to me. I am not to engage.”  
  
Remembering the connection was remembering too much. Another dose.

  


“Where do your loyalties lie?”  
  
“The Foundation is my only concern.”  
  
Progress. Good. She wasn't going to need to blank slate them completely. Somehow, in a sick way, that brought her more enjoyment. Knowing that Ten would be aware. That Ten would still be around to give her such secrets. Ten was always full of those.  
“Who is Twelve?”  
  
Again, a pause. Xavier? No, insufferable? No, that showed emotion. “I have not met the current Twelve.” They remembered finally.  
  
That wasn't their head being cloudy from the amnestics, Secrecy could tell. Attachment to the defector? Another dose.


	4. What Have You Done?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katja is terrified, and angry. And helpless.

Katja wanted to hit someone. To tear them apart. Someone had well and truly broken Emery, if they had walked into whatever Xavier meant. He explained only in the vaguest of terms, and she could tell it was uncomfortable, so she dropped it. She could figure out it was very, very bad. Not a death like Gino’s, and not a death like the one Ten claimed Emery had had (Emery was alive, Emery still peeked through, Katja could see it, Emery could come back), something different. He had called himself a machine. Was that Emery’s fate? Could she stop it? Gino would have told her it wasn’t her decision to make. She had to save them. She had to.

  


She bent her files back in, the Council hadn’t yet set up the new server for their classified chat. Taking care of Ten was the priority, and those who could spare the time were discussing this. She couldn’t see the backlogs, she had to duck in and out sporadically, lest anyone check the online list. She saw something about progress going well from an Eleven, who said the other two Elevens, this one didn’t use fake numbers, were doing well. How many Elevens were there? What was “progress”?

  


_O5-11: O5-10 is proving resilient to amnestic treatment, but they are slowly relinquishing their grip on the undesirable._  
_O5-9: Slippery as fuck, still don’t know why we’re keeping them._  
_O5-3: It’s only ethical to give them a second chance if they can be redeemed. Their defense was sound, and they showed genuine willingness to work with us to correct it._  
_O5-11: It shouldn’t be much longer before Eleven can give them their instructions, after Eleven is done with them._  
_O5-13: Maybe they’ll be nicer now!_  
_O5-2: Maybe they’ll take care of themself?_  
_O5-8: I still don’t really understand all of this. It’s good I helped find them, right?_  
_O5-3: Yes, it is._  
_O5-12: With any luck, they’ll be as good as I am. Working alongside someone incompetent would be so very inconvenient._  
_O5-13: They were that!_

  


Four’s silence didn’t sit well with her. But she couldn’t read anymore, she felt sick, horrified. They were systematically _erasing_ Emery. Erasing Emery from _their own damn mind_. She was under no delusions about the insidious cruelty, and ruthlessness the Foundation would enact against their own. She knew even Command wasn’t immune, though she tried to deny that to herself, if only to believe Emery was safe. And now, she would have to accept, fully, that Emery was gone.  
  
Idly, she pet the lizard she had gifted to Ten right before it all came crashing on their head. She should have listened. This was her fault. “I’m sorry, Robin, I’ll get them back, or die trying.” She was vowing to herself, more than anyone else. It was so much.

  


She needed Gino. She needed to focus, and she could bend him back into being. Not forever, maybe one day she’d find someone who could, but she didn’t need forever. She needed her brother. Because her rock was being crushed to dust.


	5. Understood? Good.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The retraining is complete. Somewhere, Xavier feels the Ten he knew die.

Secrecy had to switch arms, with how many little things somehow managed to stick. It still wasn’t a complete blank slate, and she would do all she could to keep it that way. She knew the others would find it fitting, as well. The first dose on the other arm.  
  
“Who is Emery Jonaitis?”  
  
“I am unfamiliar with this name.”  
  
“Who is Katja Sparks?”  
  
“An enemy of the Foundation, suspected on 33 counts of murder. She is a high-priority target, and all sightings are to be reported to Command immediately.”  
  
_Good_. Something about that sat odd, though. Like they were phoning it in, not like they believed it. A final dose.

  


“Who is Katja Sparks?”  
  
“An enemy of the Foundation. She is to be handled with extreme prejudice.”  
  
That was much better.  
  
“Who is Gino Sparks?”  
  
“I have never heard that name. A relative of Katja Sparks, perhaps?”  
  
Perfect. One last thing.  
  
“How do you feel, Ten?”  
  
Ten paused, as if trying to piece it together. This one, Secrecy could tell, was from their mind struggling to remember, and kick through the haze. “I...do not.” They couldn’t identify anything, anyway.  
  
“You do not?”  
  
“I am exactly as an Overseer should strive to be,” this was what they wanted, they reminded themself, as words they knew should scare them came out, “My judgment is not tainted by petty emotions. I am able to be logical.”  
  
“Good.”

  


The others would never know which of Ten’s memories had been erased in their pre-approved methods, and which ones she had stolen for her collection, they wouldn’t know she had stolen any, she was good at secrets. Ten had some hideous skeletons in their closet. Those made some of the best secrets.

  


\------

  


Xavier felt something, faintly, fade away. He knew, in his gut, what that something was. Whether either of them ever acknowledged it, as Ten and Twelve, the record keeper and the budgeter, they were always acutely aware of one another. He’d heard it said twins can ‘sense’ each other, he assumed it was something like that.  
  
In the back of his mind, he was angry they threw away their chance at reconciling. Their chance to be adults for once, and drop the petty song and dance. Move past the insults, and broken tables, and salary deductions, and spite votes, past the Ten Will Stab You In The Back Department. He had been working up to talk to them, frankly, about the way they had been interacting for decades. To ask them what their damage was. To explain his own. Maybe they could be friends. Without their jobs, they never would have been, but _damn it_ , he cared about them. They had been through hell and back together, they had been the last two standing, at one point, striving to hold it together, make the right calls, and get it _done_. They had a moment during that time. He knew they cared about him, even if they explained it away as “for the Council’s benefit.”  
  
His fingers traced the amnestics again. After they faked his death, he would take all of them, and Ten wouldn’t matter anymore. He would be free. For now, though, he needed a drink, or five.


	6. A Numb Kind of Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four is numb. Why had Ten done this? Any of this. Ten is perfect, now. Ten is what they need.

Four watched the chat numbly, in stunned silence. He hadn’t wanted to see Ten die, but was this any better? The Ten he knew was _already_ a shell of a person, stuffed with dreams they killed long ago, and fragments of broken relationships. They were both masking a lot, they both knew it. They had an understanding, and their antagonizing each other made things _enjoyable_ for a while. They were _friends_ dammit. Friends didn’t _do this_ to friends.  
  
It didn’t matter if this husk of a husk had Ten’s face, voice, personality, and name. He knew, it wasn’t Ten. He knew it was all going to be programming. Whatever they tell Ten to be, Ten will be. The only reason Ten would keep their personality and mannerisms would be to avoid arousing suspicion, since Ten was so public-facing within the Foundation.

  


What did he have left? The Foundation? It had barely been worth it before. Ten? Ten systematically destroyed themself. Ten ran him through a crisis, through hell, and came back only to allow themself to be stamped out.  
  
There was nothing connecting him to this Earth anymore.  
  
He closed the chat and began devising a plan.

  


\------

  


Liar was finished with her role, her execution was flawless, it always was. She handed Ten a packet, “This is what you are allowed to say, these are templates for the only ways you are to respond in public, when speaking. Practice it. Remember it.” She hated being straightforward, she was much better at blurring the lies and truths, or offering up multiple options, only one or two of which may be even half true. “And these,” she points to her screen, “Are the only things you will be allowed to send outside of allotted time for interaction on our servers.”  
Ten nodded silently. They understood. They agreed. They were flawless. This was what the Council wanted, and what the Council wants, the Council gets.

  


_O5-11: Nine, do you have the limiters set up?_  
_O5-9: Yes I do :kappa:_  
_O5-11: Ten is ready._  
_O5-9: :StrawBeary: Ok_  


> _O5-13: O5-10 has been added to the chat_

  


Ten doesn’t say anything at first. Do not speak unless spoken to. But soon they are addressed. A slight nagging from the real Ten screamed and begged for Four to come on. They didn’t remember how to talk to him. They only had their script. They were told they didn’t need to be on-script in the classified chat. But they had to be perfect. They were perfect. Just like they wanted. The old Ten could not be allowed in. Not anymore. They didn’t know how to react to the strangely stiff greeting they got.  
  
Ten mechanically said that they are glad to be back, that they are assured it will never happen again, whatever happened. They were allowed to remember the amnesticization this time. It was a deterrent. They did not send anything else. They were not needed at this time. They would know when they were. They turned their attention back to their obligations, their lists, and the chat monitoring.


	7. Shattered Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're always running away from your messes, someone has to pick up the pieces.

Gino looked around as he took physical form once more. _‘So soon?’_ he thought. He knew this wasn’t easy on Katja, she usually took more time between these. Something was wrong. He saw Xavier, obviously shaken, obviously not wanting to speak about it. And he saw his sister, the one who called him, looking a hair’s breadth away from a total collapse.  
  
“Hey, hey, Kat, what’s wrong, talk to me.”  
  
Katja sobbed on him, “It’s happening again, G. They’re going to take Emery away. They’re killing Em! _My_ Emery. A fate _worse_ than death, and--” she couldn’t continue the thought, and just clung to him desperately.  
  
Gino resisted the thought that Emery died long ago, and just held her. Why had Ten let this happen? He knew Ten wasn’t Emery. Still, he thought they had some sense, some care. He didn’t like the situation at all, but Katja needed him more.

  


\-----

  


A week passed, and it became apparent to all of them, Ten was not coming back. Ten would not contact them. Ten was someone, or something, else now. It was probably best none of them see who that is.

  


Xavier finished his drink, the eleventh one that morning, he did not want to be sober for this. He had to trust in Ten’s agents. He knew they were attached to Ten, he knew Ten wouldn’t remember giving the orders, and therefore wouldn’t rescind them. He knew they conveyed “Twelve” was a priority to save. Ten wasn’t stupid, and he had calculated everything. He still felt something empty and gnawing at his inside. One last drink, to quiet it.  
  
He looked at the clock. It was time. He sighed, and rolled himself out, into the world. They still hadn’t kicked his dead account offline. He signed on, and waited.

  


\-----

  


South had been sighing in relief that Ten was back when the order came through. _We have found former O5-12, The Accountant. Alpha-1 is to report to his last known location immediately. He is not to be brought back alive._ He knew he had to keep the promise he made to Ten. Well, he had made it to Cold Open, who was forwarding the message on Ten’s behalf to keep it covert. Even if Ten was acting off, he made a promise to them, and he intended to keep it. Even if they weren’t themself anymore. Agent South never broke a promise to a friend. Or whatever he considered Ten, outside of a job. He was the best marksman. He would do the job, he would do it well, no one would suspect a thing, he knew the plan. He nodded to Calypso, making sure they were both in on it.  
  
Calypso would do anything for Ten, Ten had saved him. This was a small favor to ask in exchange. He wasn’t afraid.


	8. A Plan for Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The council knows Twelve is dead. Four knows his solution is to follow.

The Council got the call almost immediately, from Agent Ace, “It is done. There is no body, it was incinerated in the explosion. No witnesses. Seems he accepted his fate readily.”

  


Ten didn’t know why their face tensed slightly at the news, almost imperceptibly. Liar noticed it.  
  
“Are you alright, Ten?” She sounded like she cared. She was wondering if they were going to need further education, already. If Secrecy had really messed it up.  
  
“Of course I am,” their voice was cold, unfeeling, “The former Twelve made his mistakes. He took actions for his own selfish reasons, he forsook the Foundation. The fugitive he was with turned him out. He got what was coming.” Did they believe any of that? They didn’t know. They couldn’t think like that. They were perfect. No room for doubt. Doubt is a weakness. Weakness must be eradicated. An Overseer is not weak. They said it, so it was true. Anything they spoke into being was true. They could rewrite the world as they pleased. They would not, because their job was to preserve order, and only that. Unless it called for an overwrite, it would not be done. Only necessary measures. They were good. They would excel at their job.

  


\-----

  


Four hated this. He hated all of this. He had finished his plan, it took him longer than usual, because he was upset. How long it took didn’t matter, though. What mattered was he got it done, and got it done perfectly. Coverups were simple, once you’ve seen enough of them.  
  
The Insurgency coming in simply made it easier. He had someone to frame. Someone it would be believable he fell to.  
  
And he knew exactly where they were hanging out.  
  
His life wasn’t his to take. But this was his rebellion. His revenge against the world, against the two things he trusted most for ripping his world apart.

  


He debated a lot about whether or not to leave Ten a message. Memory erasure was an imperfect science. Personality overwrites even moreso. But it was too fresh to bank on any breakthrough. Did he want the Foundation to know? Or at least Command?  
  
Ten wouldn’t care, he concluded. They _couldn’t_ care. Not anymore, and they _let it happen_. They systematically orchestrated their own downfall. And Twelve, the former Twelve, not this new girl, he helped them do it. He could have _protected them_. He could have let them have a fighting chance. Instead, he ripped it away, letting the events fester in the Council’s minds. Letting the sentence get harsher and harsher.  
  
He wanted to rub Ten’s face in what they did. He wanted to show them they burned every bridge they had. But Ten wouldn’t care. The lights were on, but nobody was home.  
  
He threw out the letter he was writing.


	9. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How we remember someone, and how we reconcile who they become.

A wave of relief washed over him as Xavier realized he could finally wipe it all away. Last time, he had chosen to remember Ten’s name. The name Ten had _before_ , the last thing they had told him, before he stupidly amnesticized them, “so they couldn’t make any rash decisions.” This was his fault, too.  
  
He knew Ten, the old Ten, the one he had known, would scold him for this, while secretly urging him on, if it would ease the pain. Ten would understand.  
  
He inhaled, he had this happen so many times before, but now, for the second time in his life, it was by his own hand. This was his choice. He wasn’t Twelve anymore, he wasn’t their perfect calculating machine anymore.

  


He had decided he would remember Ten as they were when he knew them. He had already told Katja this. Told her to tell him Ten had passed on. He would carry on believing Ten died, that they were at peace. Maybe he was avoiding reality. He didn’t care. He didn’t need to remember anything about that hell that had stolen every chance he had at a life from the time he was five years old.

  


His last thought, before it all faded away into the distance, things he didn’t need anymore, was how Ten was a dumbass. A dumbass he cared about, his constant, but a dumbass nonetheless.

  


He looked around, “Why am I out here?” He asked no one in particular. It must not have mattered, if he had forgotten. He returned home, this was home.

  


Katja could barely hold it together as she lied to him. She wished she could believe it, too.

  


They would hold a vigil, Katja insisted they make bread for it, and that they get a small fir tree, “To represent them,” she explained, patiently. They couldn’t do a proper Lithuanian mourning, but she needed to have it be as close as possible. She didn’t explain why, Xavier didn’t understand, but if it was that important, he wouldn’t press it. Xavier was burying Ten. Katja was burying Emery.

  


\-----

  


South and Calypso found themselves able to access Ten less, and less, and when they did see them, Ten was dismissive, distant, distrusting. More so than they had ever been in the past. _What had they done?_ The Council said Ten would live, that Ten would be okay. This was _not okay_. This was hideous, monstrous, an aberration.

  


Neither of them was willing to end it for them, though. Neither of them would speak.


	10. Just Another Coverup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scripts are easy. Even if Four turns up dead, there is a script for that. A routine to be followed.

Sticking to a script was easy. It made everything so much simpler. Why had they never done this before? The algorithm automatically altered the wording, enough to not give away it was all form letters, but what they conveyed was still, fundamentally, the same.  
  
Letting the programming take hold was simple. So much less stressful than the way they had been doing it earlier. And they were perfect, even One had been much more receptive to them, since their return. They were finally more than Twelve, _their_ Twelve, they thought, before that thought was crushed like a bug, could ever be. They surpassed him.  
  
If they had a heart, they would have been happy. Proud. They didn’t. They weren’t. It was all matter-of-fact. The old Twelve had been a weakness. They were supposed to be better than someone like that. Nothing to be proud of. It was a job, and nothing more.

  


\-------

  


Four fast-traveled to nearby where he knew the Insurgency frequently hung around. _‘Make it look like an accident on your part. Draw their attention, make them think they killed you, so they’ll gloat.’_  
  
It was all so easy, so simple. For the first time in what felt like his entire existence, at this point, Four was in control of his destiny.

  


His final thoughts before he hit the ground were about how this was Ten’s fault. Ten betrayed him, and destroyed his life. He had been wrong to trust them. And he hated them for it.  
  
And then, there was nothing.

  


\--------

  


The message came through from an untraceable source. No one cared what it said, they cared _who_ sent it. The Insurgency. They were bragging. O5-4, call sign “The Ambassador” was dead. Another to erase. Another to replace. It would move smoothly, it always did. No one would know. No one would suspect a thing.

  


A small task force was assembled to scout for the body near known Insurgency hideouts, so no one else could find it and ask questions.

  


Somewhere, deep inside, below the rutting their thoughts had been replaced with, Ten sensed they were supposed to care about this. No, Four was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunate, but no use mourning. He was replaceable. Everyone was


	11. Talk to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appointments are supposed to help. It's just another routine.

A factotum, which one didn’t matter to Ten, they hadn’t bothered to memorize their watchers’ names, they changed too frequently for it to matter, tapped them on the shoulder, pulling them away from their routine trance-state.  
  
“You’re scheduled to meet with Doctor Glass in fifteen minutes. If you don’t want to be late, you should head down now.”  
  
They nodded stiffly, and stood up. Walking easily through the halls that had become so known to them, by now, that they could walk them in their sleep.

  


It took almost exactly 15 minutes to arrive at Glass’ door. Glass opened it, “Hello, Ten, I’m glad you actually showed up. I was told I would be allowed to remember this session, I am glad you are making progress in trusting me,” he was smiling. This was so much better than they had been. They were accepting help! Whoever spoke to them about this was a miracle worker.

  


Going off-script was hard. Without a script, there was too much chance of messing up. Even if they knew Glass wouldn’t tell anyone, and no one would come asking, they had the decency to do that much for them. They trusted them. The Foundation never did anything that wasn’t deemed absolutely necessary. The Foundation spared their life, despite several major infractions. The Foundation was different now. They had higher moral standards. They were here, they were safe, they were good at their job, they were needed, they were important.

  


Ten looked down at Glass, smiling slightly, “I suppose it was about time I grew up,” they had been behaving like a child. He lead them in, and they followed.  
  
He motioned for them to sit, and they did so, though their movements were almost too fluid. Glass ignored it, Ten was doing better. “Is there anything in particular you would like to discuss today?”  
  
Was there? There should have been, they knew that. But there was nothing. A void. They could discuss that. Don’t waste time. You must make progress. Always progress. Speak with Glass. That’s progress. And progress is important.  
  
A slow nod, less certain than Ten was supposed to be, “I am aware why this is the case,” they began, noting Glass was taking notes. His notes were private. No one would see them. “However, it feels like something has been ripped out of me. Something I should miss. I don’t miss it, but there’s this sensation that I _should_.”  
  
Glass nodded, understanding, “It’s been a very stressful time for all of us, I can only imagine what it must be like at your level.”  
  
Stress, yes, that must be it. Stress could affect memory, and they knew they had been amnesticized. It was nothing to worry about. Another thought. “I suppose so. A friend died, recently, as well.” ‘ _We know who did it_.’ They added, mentally. No need to imply it was someone important. They used the word ‘friend’ to obfuscate. Ten did not have attachments. Ten’s only attachment was to the Foundation. Everything, and everyone, else was expendable. The thoughts they knew they should have felt so _fake_ , suddenly. No need to address that.  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps you can take some time to meditate on that.” They did not need to. They would play along. “Remember them for the person they were, perhaps do something small to honor their memory.” That would be forbidden. They do not tell him this.  
  
Ten nodded. Glass began to walk them through it.

  


Thoughts got a little muddled as they attempted to follow his directions. It was hard to examine feelings, they no longer knew what a feeling was. They did not tell him this. Small flickers of _something_ coming and going. They crushed them immediately.

  


The session continued much as a normal session would, Ten coming up with things to explain their previous behaviour, Glass responding understandingly, offering up explanations of why. Was it real? Was it fake? Ten didn’t know. Ten didn’t care. Ten wasn’t supposed to care. Why even think of it at all?

  


The directions ran through their head endlessly. They had gotten good at that, even before they taught them anew.

  


Whether they believed them, and where they came from no longer mattered. This was what Ten had always wanted. They had become the Overseer the Foundation wanted. They had become everything Twelve had been. This was good. This was fine.

  


They won their reward. They got their wish.


End file.
